


Lag

by Marasa



Series: The New Trinity [1]
Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Anxiety, Bad Days, Cuddling, Disassociation, Domestic, Existential Crisis, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Multi, New Gods, Technical Boy has a rough day, Technical Boy is like 21, just a little bit though, touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 05:18:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11730306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: Mr. World has never seen Technical Boy quiet.





	Lag

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read the book, so I'm just writing about what I've seen in the show, as well as coming up with a few new pieces of this reality to piece together what I'm missing.

Mr. World has never seen Technical Boy quiet.

The young god is always spitting terrible language to those that oppose him, yelling when they tell him to stop smoking up their safe-house with hefty vape clouds and throws frequent tantrums when he doesn't get his way. He was the epitome of young power, a god that was too new to know how to behave rationally.

But he’s quiet now as he lays on the couch of their home hidden somewhere in the country in Ohio, somewhere no man or god will find them.

Mr. World is pretty sure everyone hates Ohio.

They only need to be here as long as it takes to gather their smarts and formulate a plan to deal with Wednesday. They spend their days gathering power from their believers and sharing perspectives as they bide their time to strike. And being cramped up in a house with Technical Boy warrants frequent yelling but it's been uncharacteristically quiet all day.

Technical Boy lays on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him, eyes blank and face apathetic as he stares forward, not even moving those blue eyes to follow the movement of Mr. World as he comes into the living room.

Media stands beside the sofa, looking down at him, hair done up and wrapped in a scarf as she mimics the form of Lucy from I Love Lucy.

“He's quiet,” Mr. World says. “He's never quiet. Why is he quiet?”

Technical Boy blinks slowly. His vape lays untouched on the table. He doesn't even look at it. And in that moment of complete dissociation, he looks like an old god, a dying god. Stress weighs down on his form and sucks the playful energy from his eyes. He simply stared forward, looking miserable.

“He's,” Media turns her head as she looks down at him, something soft but worried in her eyes, “upset.”

“Upset?” Mr. World steps forward, a dangerous look in his eyes. He's only been gone for a few hours and this is what he comes back to. “Upset about what?”

Technical Boy’s expression is the same as an online status that reads, _just had the worst day; don't ask me about it_ \- completely self-righteous and masturbatory, ego-inflated to the point where he thinks he can lay on the couch pouting and actually get away with it.

Mr. World thinks he may be the one to knock Technical Boy’s front teeth out this time.

“Well that's the problem; it's nothing in particular,” Media says. “Perhaps his dampened mood is just a ‘side-effect’ of his existence. All his interactions are so artificial and borderline socially inept, regardless of the amount of followers he has. I can imagine how alienating it all must be.”

Technical Boy tightens the blanket around himself.

Media turns to Mr. World, looking like Lucy as she clasps her hands in front of her with a soft, caring light shining in her eyes.

“Just a bad day,” Media says. “His whole reality seems to be making him rather…fussy.”

A small whine break desperately deep in Technical Boy’s throat as he pulls the blanket up under his chin.

“We have work to do, Media,” Mr. World says, not even bothering to address Technical Boy; he doesn't exactly want to get into another inevitable fight. He tries to put aside the creeping fact in his mind that Technical Boy doesn't look like he'd even try to fight right now.

Always go go go, Mr. World was, but Media understood the inherent laziness she and Technical Boy were made from. Mr. World was true interaction and hard money and reality. The other two gods had learned to be still and contemplative, living in the lies of a fantasy a majority of their time; Mr. World simply didn't understand.

“Maybe we can wait for a little while, World,” Media says. “Take some time to recuperate together and gather our energy before we obliterate Wednesday.”

Mr. World pauses, eyes going from Media to Technical Boy before giving a slow nod. This is not at all what he had been expecting when he came back to the house.

Media gives him a soft smile and sits down on the sofa a few feet away from the younger god, trying to make sure not to startle him.

“Technical Boy,” Media coos like television static, “come here.”

She opens her arms, open and beckoning and Mr. World jaw nearly drops. Media being actually caring and opening her arms for the brattiest member of their three person gang was something Mr. World, in all his wisdom, never thought he would see. Technical Boy looks just as surprised as he does.

Technical Boy raises an eyebrow and doesn't hide his wariness from his position on the couch.

After a beat of tense silence, the two older gods are surprised to see that he actually moves. He sits up, hair a little wild from being mussed by the couch. Technical Boy blinks, looks from Mr. World to Media and then, without a word, slowly crawls towards the woman who looks straight from a black and white sitcom, blanket still around his shoulders.

Media holds his shoulders and guides him to lay down with his head in her lap. Technical Boy shifts and settles cautiously, obviously weirded out by this new form of attention of the physical variety. They had never done this before, but the intense silence and irritation coming from the young god recently was enough to garner their worry.

Media’s hand comes to rest on his head, fingers threading through the long strands seemingly longer as it’s unstyled and unbraided. He immediately melts, unaware of how much he actually needed physical touch.

“So starved for love and affection,” Media lulls, “an online presence does little to quench his thirst for real attention.”

Technical Boy scrunches up his face and huffs with a roll of his eyes but never moves from under her attentive hand. At her rhythmic touch, his eyelids grow heavier and heavier over deep blue irises, struggling to keep his eyes open as his lips part and his breathing gets a little slower.

“Is that true?” Mr. World says a little quieter, serious. He only really cares because like a business, success arises out of the hard work of its employees as a whole. A disgruntled staff would sabotage a whole corporation, so Mr. World made an effort to put aside annoyance and try to care about the feelings of a fellow god if it meant his future success would be preserved.

Technical Boy looks up at Mr. World, anxious and self-conscious in his silence. In the pause is great hesitation and he opens his mouth just a little, the gap in his two front teeth visible for just a moment before he's slamming his mouth shut and turning over in Media’s lap away from Mr. World. The older god is left watching as Technical Boy nestles his face against Media’s stomach, eyes shut and fist pulling the blanket further around him.

Mr. World and Media look at each other, wide-eyed and shocked at his touchy behavior.

Mr. World sits on the couch on the other side of the downtrodden god, near his feet, hands together and brow furrowed in consideration as he tries to work out what exactly to say to Technical Boy, who never acted like this. Maybe Media was right; maybe the inherent loneliness of the young god’s existence had finally caught up with him.

“Our work together can only be achieved if we’re all on the same page, emotionally, spiritually, physically,” Mr. World says. “We all have our bad days; the NASDAQ dips-”

“TV ratings drop,” Media adds, red-polished fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp.

“And wifi signals...weaken?” Mr. World tries, unsure if that analogy works.

Mr. World waits for a sign that Technical Boy heard him. All he gets is a bit lip and an uncharacteristically shy peek of blue eyes before Technical Boy is returning his face to Media’s stomach.

“If we want to achieve great things together,” Mr. World says, “we need to be well-rested and ready. Take this time to relax and feel better. I apologize for my initial misunderstanding.”

Mr. World rests a hand on Technical Boy’s lower back. The young god gives an involuntary whine in the back of his throat, eyes squeezed shut and hand traveling lower in the direction of Mr. World with an urgency that says that he needs him.

“Maybe we can all relax here? Put on a movie?” Media suggests. “If you want that,” she says to Technical Boy, fingers stilling at the back of his neck.

Technical Boy looks up at her, somehow looking scared and shy, in desperate need for attention and validation after suffering a whole existence of meaningless online ferocity and shallow interaction.

The boy with no real friends chances a look at Mr. World before giving a careful nod.

A television remote materializes in her hand as does a screen hovering in front of them. A distinct click and then an image appears on the ghostly screen.

“He likes Willy Wonka,” Media says to Mr. World. “It's your favorite, isn't it?”

Technical Boy gives an embarrassed snuffle and a small shrug, not even looking at the television but still enjoying the whimsical sounds suddenly coming from the huge television Media always seems to keep in her atmosphere.

Mr. World gives a quiet sigh, unsure of how to comfort another ailing god, a younger one at that. He watches how Technical Boy hums quietly as Media’s fingers brush across his forehead and travels down his jaw, following under his ear and then to the back of his neck where she draws random patterns in the fair hair there.

“His skin is clearing up, huh?” Mr. World says off-handedly. Media strokes a finger down Technical Boy’s cheek, much smoother and less irritated with a lack of red bumps that are usually there. Only a few remain but Media makes sure not to accidentally scratch them as her finger passes. Technical Boy leans into the touch.

“The wonders of lemon juice and baking soda,” Media says quietly and Mr. World remembers how he had walked in on Technical Boy applying some kind of paste from a bowl onto his face beside Media.

“Remember- an even coat,” Media had said and Technical Boy had leaned in closer to the mirror, eyes narrowed and fingers precise as if he were trying to win some sort of videogame, digits swirling over budding acne on his cheeks like the white pills in Pacman.

Mr. World sighs and thinks of how strange their whole situation was. A war of the gods during the day, face masks and apparently cuddling at night.

New gods truly did it differently.

Mr. World’s hand finds Technical Boy’s left calf through the lumps and bumps of the heavy blanket pulled over him. Technical Boy’s hand lowers further and blindly reaches for Mr. World’s sleeve. When he feels the smooth material of Mr. World’s suit against his fingertips, Technical Boy grips it lightly out of the need to simply have him close.

Mr. World breathes an amused laugh through his nose at the young god’s vulnerability. It can too easily be played off as weakness, but the older god finds it admirable, such a development for Technical Boy who prides himself on his unmovable indifference.

In a strange way, Mr. World feels honored to be needed so close to another god; humans were always so fickle, their loyalty and faith faltering at the slightest inconvenience. As Technical Boy holds Mr. World’s sleeve, eyes closed and leaning into Media’s attentive hand, Mr. World feels a new warmth in his chest.

Mr. World guides Technical Boy’s leg into his lap and squeezes it. Technical Boy hums and tightens his grip on the other’s sleeve.

The lamp beside them shines softly on Technical Boy’s slowly relaxing face, his lips parting and his breath slowing as he nods off, riding higher on this bliss between them than his first emergence from Silicon Valley.

Gene Wilder struts on screen and the volume is turned down by a flick of Media’s finger downwards. They stay quiet for Technical Boy’s sake, even though Mr. World would like to discuss their next move against Wednesday with Media. She thinks strategically and critically and Mr. World would love to discuss the future with her, but there's a god asleep in their laps, a god that's having a rough day and that needs the rest.

Technical Boy gives a short groan in his sleep and it's frightening how quick Media and Mr. World are there to calm him. Media’s hand strokes the hair at the side of his head as Mr. World rubs up and down his skinny calf. Technical Boy calms with a tiny sigh, staying asleep in their laps under their soothing hands.

“Touch starved,” Media whispers after a long stretch of silence, both of them forgetting about the movie and instead watching the third part that makes up the new gods. Media smirks. “A god, touch starved. Maybe that's why he associated with Bilquis.”

Mr. World hums.

“He’s forgotten that there's a reality outside of the one online,” Mr. World says. He's almost certain the young god melts further into them at the sound of his voice. “He gets to be such a total brat when he’s like this.”

Technical Boy whimpers in his sleep, brow furrowing and they're there again, shushing him and keeping him comfortable and safe. As Mr. World moves his hand to Technical Boy’s knee to gently massage it, he realizes that the god doesn't look like a brat as long as he's asleep. He looks soft, relaxed.

“It's nice to remind him of his place in a world outside of the caustic one he occupies,” Media says. “We really should do it more often.”

Technical Boy murmurs quietly in his sleep, perhaps dreaming of new operating systems and servers that never crash. Mr. World smiles despite himself when the young god’s finger’s twitch on his sleeve. He scoots a little closer to Media, eyes never leaving Technical Boy as he thinks that this is it- they three are the new gods to rule everything. They're versatile, strong and vulnerable, mischievous and shy, always adapting and upgrading themselves as the world changes with them.

Mr. World runs his thumb back and forth over Technical Boy’s knee and chuckles quietly when he nestles more into Media. It's just the three of them, together.

They have no other choice than to take care of each other.


End file.
